


Begin Again

by ElizaKroon



Series: Trina Swift (i will name it that if i want) [4]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: F/M, I don't understand tags, Songfic, dutch curse words, mention of taylor swift - Freeform, singular dutch curse word actually, the album too actually, the artist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 18:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaKroon/pseuds/ElizaKroon
Summary: And you throw your head back laughing like a little kidI think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never didI've been spending the last eight monthsThinking all love ever does is break and burn and endBut on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again-Trina rediscovers love in Mendel and starts letting go.





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinasong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinasong/gifts).



> their song is our song by taylor swift, from the album taylor swift. don't even try me. this is for my LOVELY LOVELY LOVELY boyfriend. happy valentine's day. ily

Getting ready had become an alien concept to Trina. Well, not exactly. For a few years, she hadn’t bothered anymore. She cried a lot, so putting on makeup was pretty much useless, although it could save her a few sneers from Marvin. Kut Marvin. The real strangeness came from the focus and intensity, and the way her hands shook in anticipation. Really, she hadn’t been this excited in a long time. And she’d had her share of one night stands shortly after the divorce. To be fair, though, all those men were rather useless and didn’t even know what the fuck a clitoris was. Probably didn’t even know the difference between the vaginal opening and urethral opening. Just her luck, right? Hah.

When she arrived, the sound of her heels echoed through the café, and her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. It wasn’t like there were that many people looking at her (three, at most), but it was enough to send her back into that familiar hole of self-consciousness. Marvin didn’t like it when she wore heels. The last 12 years of her life she only wore flats, except for when she was alone, when she’d climb up to the attic and pull on her six-inch heels from when she was merely 18. It took her back to the time she was lively and happy and excited, and not so tired and empty. 

It might be a weird thing to focus on, her choice of shoes, but after what happened with her and Marvin, she liked focusing on more arbitrary things when she got sad and lonely (which was pretty much always). It made things seem less bad. She didn’t have time to think about the past anymore, though, because she was here for a date. Not with some random stranger as she had in the more desperate times after her divorce, but with Mendel Weisenbachfeld. Her psychiatrist. Of all people, right? They’d agreed that they would see each other at the café, because it’d be weird if he picked her up. As if the entire situation wasn’t fucking nuts already.

Trina really had to snap out of it now, because when she scans the room, she sees Mendel leaned against a wall, staring down at a mixed bouquet of daisies and carnations with an intense and nervous kind of with dates, the men were always late. Not him, apparently. A hint of a smile appeared on her face, and with anxiety shooting through her veins, she approached him. She tapped him on the shoulder gently, and he jumped, clearly bursting with nerves. “Trina! Hi..” 

“You’re early,” she pointed out quietly, and he nodded eagerly in response. “Uh, yeah, I just didn’t want to keep you waiting. I got you flowers.” He held out the bouquet, and as she took it, he pulled out her chair, some of his anxiety melting away at the warm smile on her face. When he pulled out her chair, her heart seemed to skip a beat. Marvin never— No. She actively had to keep her mind of him. Fucking Marvin. But she didn’t have Marvin in front of her in that poorly lit café, with tables made of wood that seemed to be rotting and employees that just want to go home. It was Mendel. Sweet, nervous, comforting Mendel, who actually liked her.

They order coffee (Mendel gets a chai latte, Trina gets espresso), and talk for a while. Trina tells stories about her friends from high school and all the weird shit they used to do, and she feels a kind of sinking feeling once she realizes she hasn’t experienced anything worth talking about on a first date after she got married. It’s clear Mendel knows too, because he already knew everything about her self-hate, breakdowns, and low points. Still, their conversation remained light, and whenever a small silence fell, Trina could tell Mendel was mouthing along to the Taylor Swift song playing. Her first album. Maybe that would be their song someday.

She makes jokes for the first time in years, and they’re not as good anymore, and sometimes she says the punchline wrong, which makes her eyes sting, because she feels like she’d ruined the afternoon. Still, Mendel laughs loudly and throws his head back, and squeezes her hand whenever he sees her almost collapse. She was still stressed, clearly, but for once she was happy. Happy enough, at least. After the whirlwind of emotions that was the last few months (and her entire adult life, to be fair), she was satisfied with that.

When they finally leave the café, the sun had already started setting. Mendel walked Trina to her car, and he had hesitantly put his hand on the small of her back, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Perhaps, all would be well. Still, the urge to talk about Marvin grew in Trina, and she opened her mouth to speak, before being interrupted by Mendel’s ramble about how much he’d enjoyed the afternoon, which eventually turned into him talking about his family and their favorite movies. Just then, it hit her how much more fun that was. How much she wants to talk about that instead. So she smiles and listens.

Trina drives home after hugging and thanking him, and on the way she actually says the word ‘fuck’ out loud for the first time since she was 17, because she should’ve kissed him. But it didn’t matter now. They’d see each other again, he had her phone number. He called her when she was still driving, and it gave her hope, for once. He was a little spark of light that would make everything bright and warm again. If all went well, and she didn’t fuck up, of course. She couldn’t, though, could she? She was in love. Probably. A little. Don’t tell Marvin.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this! this took me wayyyy too long to write and yet i didn't proofread. will i ever take my craft seriously. comments + kudos would be greatly appreciated!! ily all!!


End file.
